


Because people aren't liquids, they look for ways to flow

by Mysecretfanmoments



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yoga, Love at First Sight, M/M, horror at first actual conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/pseuds/Mysecretfanmoments
Summary: Hinata tries to deal with his attraction to Kageyama Tobiflow, his new yoga instructor—and the most pretentious man in existence.





	Because people aren't liquids, they look for ways to flow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esselle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ESSIE!!! Only my love for you could possibly prompt me write this ridiculous au. I hope you laugh just as much as I did in the creation of this fic, and that you have the MOST AMAZING day!!
> 
> Note for readers: in this fic I good-humouredly poke fun at the pop culture version of yoga (idk if that's even a thing in Japan, but for the purposes of this fic it is) and I'm not here to make fun of anyone's actual beliefs. I hope that comes through, but if it's something that annoys you this may not be the fic for you. Other than that I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Kagehina—here we go again~!

* * *

 

“Your aura is shit,” the yoga teacher announces, gesturing. Shouyou looks down at himself.

The teacher’s brows draw together. “It’s not _visible_ , d… hm.”

Shouyou draws himself up. Is it him, or had the teacher been about to call him dumbass? He folds his arms. He’s just suffered through a too-easy yoga lesson at the hands of this teacher, and the only enriching part of it has been ogling him during it. Yoga isn’t… _exciting_. There’s no punch, no zoom; it’s like going to a funeral for the food. Sure, you get something out of it, but at what cost?

Warmth prickles beneath Shouyou’s skin. There he’d been all yoga lesson thinking nice thoughts about this guy—well, okay, this guy’s body—and the guy is going to judge his aura?

“What’s your name again?” Shouyou asks. “I didn’t catch it at the beginning of class.”

“Kageyama,” says the teacher.

“Kageyama…?”

“Kageyama Tobiflow.”

Shouyou blinks. “Tobi…fu-ro? Is that a name?”

“Flow. Like, _flow_.” Kageyama’s big, formerly gorgeous hands make the motion of a wave, and his attractiveness dips another centimetre. Shouyou tries to smile.

“Huh?”

Kageyama’s yogic calm is obviously breaking. “Tobiflow! My name is Tobio, but I’m full of _flow_ , because I _care_ about my aura, obviously, and so you can call me—”

“Wouldn’t Flowbio be better, if you were gonna go in that direction?” Shouyou finds himself saying—though really, the problem isn’t the name, is it? It’s the kind of personality that would end up insisting on that name. And the other problem is that personality residing in the hot body of a yoga teacher Shouyou is signed up to do nine more classes with.

He feels the attraction boner he’d cultivated during class die a painful death. No more imagining this lithe intense-eyed dude sliding his hands over his body to correct poses. No more coming up with lies about whatever chakra resides in the butt so Kageyama will put his hands there. Some things aren’t worth the cost.

 _Good night, sweet prince_ , Shouyou thinks to Kageyama’s sharp-boned face as it sets in a mask of annoyance. He makes sure to bid farewell to Kageyama’s beautiful shoulders and his soft-looking muscle tank too. It feels like losing a friend.

_We knew each other for such a short time…_

“…I hadn’t thought of that,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou’s chin jerks up. Huh?

“Flowbio,” Kageyama repeats. He looks annoyed, jaw going hard. Surely he remembers all his own directives to relax it? Apparently not. “Shit.”

Oh god. Oh god, he’s so stupid and beautiful. Shouyou wants to put his mouth on him. “You could still change it?” he finds himself offering.

Kageyama shakes his head. He tramps over to a cabinet and grabs something from the top—a little box—and rifles inside. Next he’s standing back in front of Shouyou and giving him a business card, big hands serious and careful with it, handing it over politely. Shouyou receives it the same way, both hands.

 _Kageyama Tobiflow_ , the card says, using romaji for the English word in an otherwise Japanese name. It looks ridiculous. It announces him to be a _yoga instructor, chakra professional_ _,_ and _river of calm_ , and there’s a simple flower decoration—not a lotus—below.

Something about it is painfully cute, even as Shouyou’s stomach churns in secondhand embarrassment at a business card that proclaims someone to be a river of calm.

Shouyou made the cards for his martial arts business hilariously over the top, too—but that was on purpose. He can laugh with people about it. Looking up into Kageyama’s blue eyes—Shouyou refuses to think of him as _Tobiflow_ —he doesn’t think this guy has ever laughed. It’s probably not in his aura, or something.

“What a… great card,” Shouyou manages.

Kageyama’s face clears of its frown. “Really?” he asks, brows lifting in pleasure.

“I… yeah.” _No, no, no._ Kageyama needs someone to teach him not to be ridiculous. Shouyou knows how not to—

 _Stop_. He’s already put this behind him. The experience is done. Shouyou will do yoga until his injury heals, and learn some stuff along the way, and then he’ll go back to his regular life with regular people who don’t append words to their names on business cards.

It’ll all work out fine.

 

* * *

 

A week later finds Shouyou decidedly not fine, complaining to his friend after their gym’s closing hours while lying facedown on a fallen-over punching bag.

“He’s so stupid, Kei,” Shouyou whines. The way he’s lying is surprisingly comfortable, but he can feel wetness from his mouth ooze into the leather. He always drools when he lies on his stomach; he’ll be sure to wipe it off before Kei can see it.

“He’s a perfect fit, then,” Kei says without looking up. “And stop calling me just _Kei_. It’s creepy.”

“If it was up to you I’d still be calling you Tsukishima-san,” Shouyou says, sitting up a little. Kei stops looking at whatever had his attention on his phone. He’s sitting on the edge of the boxing ring with his weight hanging in the ropes, arms out in front with his phone in his hands, and his expression clearly says “and what’s wrong with that?”

Technically— _technically_ technically—they’re business partners before they’re friends, but Shouyou knows the heart of Tsukishima Kei. Secretly, Kei also likes him for things other than his prowess at attracting clients to their martial arts gym—though he’d never say so.

Relieved from conversational duty by Shouyou’s long silence, Kei goes back to scrolling on his phone. Shouyou uses Kei’s inattention to wipe drool from the punching bag before shifting onto his back. Now he’s looking at the industrial ceiling, set with badass-looking hanging lights Shouyou chose himself.

“He’s so beautiful, though,” Shouyou says, sighing. “At the start of the first class some older woman asked him if he was single and mentioned a daughter, and he said he was single—he didn’t even get why she asked, by the way—and I was like, how! But then I talked to him after and…”

Shouyou closes his eyes. Kageyama Tobiflow slash Flowbio slash Total-Hotness-o is hopeless. So hopeless and so beautiful. The two lessons since have only cemented the impression of a Greek statue come to life—a Greek statue so pretentious and stupid that the people in the museum have asked it to go back to posing, please.

“So?” Kei says, not looking up. “Decide if you can or can’t put up with his stupidity. That’s what I did with you.”

“Wow, Rudeness-shima.” Shouyou looks over and spies a small smile. He smiles back, though technically Kei is smiling at his phone. “What about how pretentious he is, though?”

“Whatever. And how do you even know he’d be into you?”

Shouyou hadn’t even thought of that. Kageyama had seemed so blank Shouyou had assumed he could say “let’s date” and Kageyama would agree as long as Shouyou gave him some kombucha to keep him busy at the same time.

(Kombucha is a thing Shouyou has learned about recently. It tastes okay, but he’s still not sure if he’s meant to drink the sludge or not.)

“Well—he might not be into me,” Shouyou says. What a sad thought.

Wait, sad? As in, he wishes Kageyama _would_ be interested in him?

“Exactly,” Kei says, in his so-don’t-worry-about-it-and-stop-bothering-me voice.

“But—but he needs someone. To teach him how to be more like a real person.”

“He _is_ a real person. Real people are weird.”

Shouyou sits up properly, passionate now. “But what if he wakes up one day, forty years old, and realises suddenly that he’s ridiculous? That he’s _been_ ridiculous for decades? He’s our age, Kei! Thirty is just around the corner! He doesn’t _have_ long to realise it.”

Finally Kei stops looking at his phone. He barks a laugh when he sees Shouyou’s earnest expression. “Seriously? Seriously, you’re going to pretend this is for the greater good? You’re doing him a service?”

“I would be!”

“Not that kind of service,” Kei says, with a leer and a quirk of his eyebrow that almost make Shouyou laugh. “Didn’t you tell him his business cards were good? You’re obviously useless at teaching.”

“I was caught unprepared! Next time I’ll know. I can be like, hey! I like you! Do you want some constructive criticism?”

Kei begins to laugh, and Shouyou can’t help smiling along sheepishly. Kei is right to laugh, annoyingly. This entire idea is even more ridiculous than Kageyama’s ill-considered name change. But…

But now and then, Shouyou catches sight of Kageyama looking out a window, or smiling at a patron’s dog, and his earnest-faced insistence that hemp materials have good energy just… fades in Shouyou’s memory. All he can think is that this guy, while odd, is sweet and beautiful and has a history that doesn’t start with being a fully-formed adult man with long hair who wears bandanas.

Shouyou can’t help but be curious.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, Shouyou remembers one or two emails and texts, but when he stands in front of _Crow’s Pose Yoga Collective_ and the glass door refuses to open, and there’s a familiar piece of paper saying the studio will be closed on June tenth for scheduled repairs stuck to the glass, he feels just a bit stupid. Yes, time flies and it’s hard to keep track of days—but he _does_ help run a semi-successful gym himself, and he _should_ know what day of the week it is. He was forewarned.

He steps back from the doors, looking up. It would have been lesson number six, and he’s kind of starting to like yoga. Kageyama has allowed him to do harder poses even though Shouyou is in the recovering-from-an-injury class, and the hard poses mean that sometimes Kageyama looks at him in a way that says he’s impressed.

Shouyou’s wayward attention is caught by someone walking past him at speed, making for the glass door and pushing heedlessly—only to bump into a closed door. Shouyou swears he hears an _ow_.

“It’s closed today,” Shouyou says, pointing at the piece of paper. “Can’t believe I forgot! But I feel better now I know someone else did t—”

The person turns to look at him, and with dawning horror Shouyou realises it’s Kageyama. Kageyama, with a red splotch on his forehead from where he banged it into the door. _Ouch_.

“Uh,” Shouyou says. Surely one of the instructors would… remember…

“I was testing the lock,” Kageyama says tersely, and Shouyou stares.

Is he really going to pretend that…

Kageyama clears his throat. “If I wasn’t, I would have used my keys. Which I have with me. Would you like to go in?”

“Huh?”

“You’re… here. So you might as well go in.”

Shouyou tries to understand, but it just makes his head ache. “The studio is closed.”

“And I have keys. Do you want to have a lesson or not?”

“But there will be repairs happening,” Shouyou says, like he’s talking to a child.

“And I can teach you somewhere there aren’t repairs happening,” Kageyama says.

Shouyou’s eyes widen. “A private lesson? But—why?”

Kageyama shrugs and pulls a tangle of keys from his multicoloured satchel. He unlocks the door before holding it open for Shouyou, who passes him and stands uselessly in the waiting room where a man with soft brown eyes usually offers tea or water. The desk is unmanned now, and there’s a sound of hammering from the studio. Instead of leading him there, though, Kageyama leads him into a side room Shouyou has never been in before.

It looks just like a small studio, though without the mirrors.

“Welcome to my place of healing,” Kageyama says.

“Your office?” Shouyou tries to correct, smiling politely.

“No.”

Shouyou swallows down objections. Okay. So it’s his place of healing. He drops his bag in a corner, and doesn’t object when Kageyama picks it up and moves it to a _different_ corner. Shouyou knows the answer to his unasked question will be something about energy circulation and he doesn’t want to hear it. Kageyama is being nice to him; he should be nice back.

“Azumane-san said you hurt yourself in a fight,” Kageyama says unexpectedly. Shouyou turns away from the wall of inspirational quotes to look at him.

“Ah, not a fight! A match. I do a lot of martial arts stuff.”

“Tai chi?” Kageyama asks, brightening visibly—like he may have found a friend.

“Um, no. More martial than arts, really. My favourite is kickboxing.”

All the brightness drops away, leaving a sour expression. “Oh.”

“It’s about flow too!”

“It’s _violent,_ ” Kageyama says in a voice of disgust.

Well, yeah. Anyway. “So you want to teach me?”

“I thought maybe it would be good. You’re… not terrible.”

Shouyou’s eyebrows rise.

“I mean, you are!” Kageyama corrects quickly. “You always rely on brute strength instead of _feeling_ the flow, and you stomp around like a bear, but the rest of the time you’re—okay. You have potential. Flexibility, natural athleticism, balance. It’s kind of annoying, since your aura’s so bad.”

“Again with the aura,” Shouyou says, huffing. He feels his blood pressure rising unenlightened-ly.

“It’s like if a baby mixed with a tornado.”

Shouyou glares. “You’re just saying that because I saw you walk into a door.”

“ _I was testing the door!_ ”

They break off to stare at each other, breathing heavily. Shouyou isn’t sure if he’s amused or insulted. How is this guy so—so—so—

Attraction wins out. _So gorgeous._ Kageyama’s strong body begs Shouyou to fall into his arms, but it would mess with the energy circulation in the room, or something, and Kageyama probably isn’t attracted to people with baby tornado auras anyway.

“You’re not nearly as cool as you think you are,” Shouyou mumbles, and Kageyama ducks his head instead of arguing.

“Yoga isn’t about being cool.”

Shouyou looks up. _Huh_. That sounded… like there was a story there, maybe. His annoyance fades.

“Okay, fine. So what pose am I doing?”

Kageyama steps forward to push at the zip-up hoodie Shouyou is wearing, and Shouyou gets the message. He sheds layers until he’s standing in a T-shirt and shorts, and Kageyama begins to direct him, counselling him through a routine.

It’s… surprisingly intimate. Kageyama doesn’t do the poses with him, though he demonstrates at points, and Shouyou can feel the weight of his gaze. It’s like Kageyama is sizing up a pork chop, deciding if he wants it for dinner. Or maybe… a soy chop. Shouyou is pretty sure Kageyama is vegetarian, though the amount of beef on his body belies this.

Kageyama should probably apply to be the poster boy for plant-based diets. Everyone would start one, with him as an example.

“How does it feel?” Kageyama asks softly, when Shouyou is balancing on his hands, his legs up behind him, one knee resting on his arm. The cadence of Kageyama’s voice leaves Shouyou feeling too hot.

“It’s fine,” Shouyou wheezes.

“You’re not relaxing,” Kageyama complains.

Shouyou’s muscles are bunched, straining to keep him balanced, and he’s meant to _relax_?

“How’s your injury?” Kageyama asks. “Any pain?”

“It’s been fine since our third lesson,” Shouyou says.

Kageyama tells him he can release the pose, transitioning into something easier where Shouyou can breathe. Kageyama touches his leg, moving it up a little. “Better,” he announces.

 _Harder_ , Shouyou thinks, but he doesn’t complain. The tension in the room—undercut by hammering from inside the complex—is thick. Not unpleasant, but thick.

“Why do you like yoga so much?” Shouyou interrupts his Kageyama-approved breathing to ask.

Kageyama touches his calf again, repositioning it. “It makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t. It’s weird. Energy? Auras?”

Kageyama stays quiet, until he directs Shouyou into the next pose, and the next, and the next. Eventually they end the session without Kageyama ever defending his favourite thing in the world, and Shouyou feels weird about it as he sits with his legs folded thanking himself for the effort he put in today.

Did he insult Kageyama? He didn’t mean to. He kind of likes Kageyama’s patchouli smell and his weird opinions. He likes how intense Kageyama gets during lessons. He just… also realises how silly it is. Or maybe not _it_ , just Kageyama’s intersection with _it_. He’s too intense about it.

Shouyou doesn’t exactly hate intensity, though.

Kageyama sits down across from Shouyou, legs folded, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He isn’t wearing a bandana today—just a low ponytail—and it makes him look naked.

“Maybe the name is a bit much,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou stares. Their eyes meet.

“Uh?”

Kageyama rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe… the flow is inside me. It doesn’t have to be my name.”

Shouyou’s face heats. He has a sudden, horrible image of whispering sweet nothings to a Kageyama who still insists on being called _Tobiflow_ during sex. He nods carefully. “That seems right.”

Kageyama glares. “You think it’s stupid. The name.”

Shouyou wonders how beneficent he can be. _No, it’s not stupid, it’s very cool, but maybe you’re_ right _about the flow-is-inside thing—_

Kageyama’s glare sharpens, his brows like angry wings. “I can tell by your aura, don’t lie.”

“Is my aura still shit?”

“It’s getting interesting.”

“Really?”

Kageyama’s face relaxes, and he leans back, folding his arms. “So you _do_ believe me.”

That’s taking it a bit far. “I believe _you_ believe you.”

They look at each other for a long, silent moment. Shouyou feels very aware of himself—all the muscle he used to be so proud of, which Kageyama seems less than impressed by as long as he’s using it to kick people. He wonders if his energy tells Kageyama he thinks he’s cute.

“Do you think I’d enjoy kickboxing?” Kageyama asks, and it surprises Shouyou so much he answers honestly.

“Yeah! Of course! Anyone would.”

“Not everyone enjoys yoga.”

“Well—” Shouyou starts, and stops himself from saying _that’s because it’s not as fun_. Yoga _can_ be fun when it’s the challenging stuff, when it’s a battle against gravity. He amends what had been about to come out, saying, “Maybe they’re wrong.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen. They’re so blue, and so pretty, and Shouyou could get lost in them.

“Exactly!” Kageyama says. “That’s exactly what I think!”

Their eyes stay locked, and after a moment Shouyou realises Kageyama is smiling—and that he’s smiling back. _He’s cute, he’s really cute, he really likes yoga, that’s okay, that’s cute too._ Shouyou can like yoga, especially if he’s doing it with Kageyama. Kageyama _Tobio_. Who has the flow inside of him.

Shouyou stands up, embarrassed at the flare of enjoyment he feels to have Kageyama look at him like that. He gives Kageyama a hand up, and is surprised when Kageyama—master of balance—takes it. His grip is strong, palm callused.

 _Very nice_ .

“If you knew kickboxing, you could beat up anyone who thought yoga was stupid,” Shouyou offers.

Kageyama’s mouth pulls disapprovingly. “Violence is for survival only.”

 _Said the wrong thing_. Shouyou scratches at his head, annoyed at himself. Of course Kageyama would abhor violence, and Shouyou makes his money teaching people how to kick and punch better. It couldn’t work, anyway. You can’t date people you think are ridiculous.

“Thank you for the lesson,” he says awkwardly. “I have my lesson card, you can punch it next time—”

“It’s free.”

“Huh?”

“This lesson. You can have it free of charge.”

Shouyou’s stomach is a riot of confused butterflies. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou nearly assures him he’s forgotten the walked-into-a-door thing as a way of thanking him—but that’s sure to backfire. So he just nods, and makes his way out.

As he steps out into the sunlight, thoroughly stretched out and centred, he wonders how Kageyama feels about the lesson.

About him.

 

* * *

 

If Shouyou wondered idly whether the extra lesson had meant something, the next lesson puts it to rest. It had clearly meant Kageyama has plans for him: _yoga_ plans, to Shouyou’s disappointment. Kageyama makes him stay after class, guiding him through a variety of difficult poses, drilling the flow of them into him. He never lets Shouyou slack, and gets visibly heated if he gives anything but his best.

Shouyou knows how Kageyama feels about him now, at least. Kageyama is a teacher—and Shouyou is a difficult but promising student he’s taken a shine to.

Kageyama’s comments about _natural athleticism_ sound almost like dirty talk at times, but his inability to read subtext suggests they aren’t, even if he does sound like he might jizz in his soft yoga pants over the whole thing.

Shouyou bears it through the next lessons, because he wasn’t lying about enjoying challenges. Past the energy stuff and thanking the Earth below and yourself and a bunch of other things, he and Kageyama actually have a lot in common. They’re both attuned to their bodies, and they both feel best when they’re in movement. Shouyou doesn’t actually like poetry, but movement can be a kind of poetry he understands. It’s the flow Kageyama is so obsessed with: the up and down of a match, of a breath, of a pose shifting into another.

Shouyou learns that drinking the sludge in kombucha tea is a matter of individual taste, and spares himself the experience. There’s only one problem, and that’s that there’s only one more lesson on his punch card. He looks at the nearly-spent card like it’s mocking him, gritting his teeth at the slip of cardboard. What will he do? Will he buy another?

 _Are you really going to take up yoga?_ he asks himself. There’s no future for him with Kageyama Tobiflow, for reasons he’s already examined a thousand times. He’s pretty sure respect is important when it comes to love. But—what about not-love?

What about…

Shouyou gazes at the punch card like it’s a ticket somewhere—a place that could be heaven or hell, and he won’t know which it is until he redeems it. If he sleeps with Kageyama, will Kageyama understand it’s just the once? Or will he think it means more? Shouyou would never want to _hurt_ him. Kageyama is pretty and eminently doable, but he also seems like a good guy beneath all the intensity.

Well, an okay guy, at least. And Shouyou wouldn’t want to mislead him.

“How do you even know he’d be into you?” a tiny, imaginary Kei on his shoulder asks again. It’s a fair comment. Shouyou probably has nothing to lose. He’ll probably strike out, but he’ll have tried, and he can put his curiosity to bed.

Or take Kageyama there.

The punchcard whispers his name in the night, and Shouyou tries not to hear it.

 

* * *

 

“It’s your last one, huh?” the guy at the front desk says. Azumane-san. His face is full of good humour, his long brown hair back in a low bun. Somehow the yoga aesthetic suits him a hundred times better than they suit Kageyama, and Shouyou can’t put his finger on why.

The slight beard, maybe. Kageyama is too clean-shaven to pull off the hippie look, even if every inch of his chiselled body cries _namaste_ and _direct your gratefulness into the Earth_.

Shouyou sighs before smiling. “Yep. It’s too bad.”

“Can I interest you in another ten-lesson pass?” Azumane asks. His glance up at Shouyou’s face and away is skittish, his face set in an overly casual customer service smile.

“No, that’s okay. Maybe someday.”

Azumane looks at him properly then, dark eyes intent. “You’re sure?”

_Huh?_

“Yeah, I’m sure! Thank you though.”

Hinata catches another odd glance, and then he’s past the desk and heading into Kageyama’s studio. Somehow the space is nostalgic, like Shouyou has been here a hundred times instead of nine.

Maybe he _will_ buy another—

 _No._ Shouyou needs to rip the band-aid off. Proposition his hot teacher, get rejected, and then move on with his life. Or get accepted and get super laid for a night, then go his merry way in the morning, never to thank the Earth below him ever again.

It’s the perfect plan.

He feels the side of his face burning, and turns to see Kageyama staring him down. His eyes are about as bright as the sun.

Kageyama looks away immediately when Shouyou returns his stare, and goes into the hall while the class sets up. Normally he’s right up front, being totally in the zone—but maybe he has something to discuss with Azumane. Either way, his jaw is tight when he returns.

“Right,” Kageyama says when he settles down. A wave of surprise goes through the room; Shouyou can feel it. Kageyama doesn’t normally sound so… real. He usually starts out being quiet for a long time, then goes all poetic about the feel of the room and what energy everyone brought today.

He recovers, though, and soon it’s a class like any other. It’s a class like any other, except—well. There’s an edge to Kageyama’s voice, and it’s almost a private lesson. Kageyama tends to give people private attention, versed in their different needs, but he spreads it out normally. Shouyou does tend to get more of his attention than average even during a normal lesson, and the ladies like to joke that Shouyou is Kageyama’s disciple, but today is different.

Kageyama corrects Shouyou’s poses, his grip almost bruising instead of his usual light nudges. He’s always merciless, but it feels less aspirational than usual, intensity without joy. If Shouyou was able to sense auras, he’d say Kageyama’s aura is the shit one today. He’s intense and tight-lipped, and Shouyou struggles to keep up with his demands. Half the lesson is spent in confusion—and then Shouyou adjusts, and gives it his all so hard even Kageyama wouldn’t dare complain. He still lays his hands along Shouyou’s arms, calves, thighs, like he’s measuring the angle exactly—but he can’t scold Shouyou anymore.

By the end of the lesson Shouyou is exhausted. It was intense exercise, for him, while most of the people around him bent and pressed palms together. An older lady nudges Shouyou after the lesson, while Kageyama is talking to a student, and she smiles slightly.

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” she says.

So the others had noticed too. There was a different feeling today, and Shouyou feels shivers along his skin. Had the calm Kageyama gotten angry?

“It does, but why?”

The lady doesn’t have an answer for him, and Shouyou lingers after she leaves. He lingers until everyone except Kageyama has left.

Kageyama doesn’t look at him; he walks past him to his mat and starts to wipe it down.

“Kageyama-sensei?” Shouyou says.

Kageyama stiffens, then looks up at Shouyou. His eyes widen for just a moment then narrow, moving swiftly from hopeful to suspicious. “Yes?”

“Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

Now or never. “Want to come over to my place? I can… buy a vegan beer or two.”

Kageyama hasn’t looked away, but somehow he manages to stare harder. Shouyou braces himself.

“…sure,” Kageyama says.

Shouyou blinks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, straightening. “But I don’t have your address.”

“D’you have your phone on you?”

“Of course not.” At Shouyou’s stare he adds: “It messes with the energy in the room.”

Shouyou nearly walks out, but before he can Kageyama says: “Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

“You will?”

Kageyama nods, and Shouyou is impressed. He can’t even remember his friends’ drink orders on nights out. When he gives his address, Kageyama repeats it back flawlessly.

It’s a cool skill; Shouyou tries not to look too impressed.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he says, both horrified and pleased at managing this hookup so well. “Whenever you’re ready. After you’ve had dinner though, because my cooking is terrible.”

Kageyama nods again, and Shouyou walks out of the studio on legs he can’t feel anymore, hoping Kageyama understands this wasn’t some request for an extra lesson. He’s glad when the gym that day is full of little disasters that need addressed, so he can stop himself from thinking too much, but eventually it’s after dinner and he’s sitting in his box-like apartment wondering if the stomach acid he can feel spreading through his body in time with his nervousness is real or psychological.

When the buzzer goes, he’s almost ready to call the whole thing off. It was obviously a bad idea, and they should stop before it goes any further—but he presses the unlocker button, and then Kageyama is walking into the complex, and then he’s at Shouyou’s door, and then the door is open and Kageyama is standing in the hallway looking like he showered recently.

His hair is sleek and conditioned, tied back in an ordinary ponytail, and nothing he’s wearing is made out of hemp. He looks amazing in fitted jeans and sneakers and a soft, long-sleeved shirt.

Shouyou has to swallow a lump of desire in his throat. It hurts as it goes down, but he manages to smile through it—albeit sickly.

“Kageyama-kun,” Shouyou says, dropping the _sensei_. He’s had his lessons, and they’re equals here. He’s not calling anyone teacher in bed, unless… hm.

Well, it depends on the situation.

 _Don’t think about that right now_ .

“Come in!” he says jovially, stepping aside, and Kageyama takes off his shoes before walking past Shouyou into the tiny place. For once Shouyou wishes he didn’t sink all his income back into the gym—but such is life.

“Your place is small,” Kageyama observes.

“Yep. Really.”

Here it comes: what’s its aura? Shouyou waits expectantly, but Kageyama’s judgment isn’t forthcoming. Instead he’s quiet, and Shouyou is forced to look him up and down a few dozen times, the wiring in his brain short-circuiting pleasantly over and over. Kageyama made an effort.

He looks so _good_. In jeans with rolled-up cuffs and a thin shirt, the long hair makes him look fashionable instead of disastrous. Shouyou’s aroused just looking, just _seeing_. If Kageyama knows how to dress, why doesn’t he dress well all the time?

An impossible thought occurs to Shouyou. Totally impossible, but—what if someone helped dress him?

It seems unlikely, since that would involve Kageyama admitting yoga-wear isn’t the best ever in every single way, but Kageyama having a fashion sense yet choosing to wear yoga stuff seems unlikely too.

All in all, Kageyama is just _unlikely_ fullstop. But he’s here right in front of Shouyou looking gorgeous, and somehow Shouyou finds himself entranced by the bit of ankle visible between Kageyama’s jeans and his low socks. Bare skin.

 _Mmm_ , Shouyou thinks, mind blank.

Kageyama finishes his inspection, his brows drawn thundercloud tight as he turns to meet Shouyou’s gaze.

 _Right_. Shouyou promised him beer. Shouyou ducks behind the counter to the small fridge and draws out two beers, uncapping them before handing one to Kageyama.

He holds up his own bottle. “To you teaching me yoga can be interesting,” he says. Staring into Kageyama’s blue eyes and peripherally seeing the gorgeous structure of his body in nice clothes, he privately adds: _To you agreeing to come here and understanding it’s a booty call._

“I did?” Kageyama asks. He looks unsure.

“You converted me!” Shouyou says, willing to be generous. He wants to set a good tone.

Kageyama ducks his head, then, and smiles a smile that stops Shouyou’s heart. It’s so close to pain, how Kageyama’s smile makes him feel. He wants to see it again, just as much as he wants to run his hands over the abs beneath that shirt.

Their beer bottles clink, and Shouyou glugs down a third of his bottle while Kageyama sips carefully. At Shouyou’s gesture, he seats himself on the room’s single recliner. Shouyou settles on the convertible couch opposite, which is lime-green and probably horrible, aura-wise.

They sit facing each other in expectant silence for a moment, Kageyama’s long fingers playing with the label of his beer bottle. His elbows are planted on his knees, brown bottle dangling from his hands.

“You shouldn’t stop,” Kageyama says to the bottle.

“Huh?”

“Yoga, I mean. Even if you don’t want the lessons, you can—if there’s a place you can practice—”

“Oh! Yeah, I will.”

“You will?”

“It feels good.” Shouyou takes another few gulps of beer, bitter and refreshing on his tongue. _Now let me make you feel good_ , he imagines saying. He could kneel in front of the chair and unbutton those nice jeans, he thinks. Would Kageyama like that?

“It’s good for you,” Kageyama says. He clears his throat. The label of his beer bottle won’t last the night; it’s already hanging loose. Kageyama flattens it back down along the glued line so it looks good as new. Whatever he wants to say next—whatever he cleared his throat for—doesn’t make it all the way out. Shouyou can see him swallow it.

The silence is much too tense to be comfortable. They both know why they’re here. Despite Kageyama’s obliviousness to the flirting of people in his class, he understood Shouyou’s invitation. His clothes and his nervousness say so.

How to… start?

“You look really nice,” Shouyou says. Kageyama’s eyes meet his, shocked, and Shouyou waves a hand at his clothes. “Like this. Fancy.”

Kageyama might not last the night, either. There’s colour high on his cheekbones, and his shoulders are bunched like he’s trying to hide his face.

“Oh.”

“Is this your date night outfit?” Shouyou asks, trying a grin.

“I—no.”

God, it’s like trying to get something going with a wall—although maybe his openers have been terrible too. The thought of struggling through another half hour of small talk is excruciating.

Shouyou gulps down the rest of his beer and sets it down. Kageyama watches him like a hawk, and it lends Shouyou gravity as he stands and takes two small steps across the room to stand over Kageyama in the armchair. He takes Kageyama’s beer from his unresisting hand and sets that down too. Still Kageyama says nothing, and Shouyou takes it as permission. He sets a knee next to Kageyama’s thigh, boxing Kageyama in.

Still nothing except a look of intensity, so Shouyou finishes the movement and plants his other knee, straddling Kageyama completely now. He sets his hands on Kageyama’s shoulders.

“This okay?”

Kageyama ducks his head in a nod. It would be fine except that with his head bent away Shouyou can’t kiss him, and Shouyou would very much like to kiss him—especially now, while Kageyama smells so clean and feels so soft. Shouyou inhales deeply before letting out a sigh of enjoyment, and this intentional breathing is enough to bring Kageyama’s face up.

 _Perfect_. Shouyou cups his face just like that and leans in slowly. This time Kageyama doesn’t duck away, and soon Shouyou’s lips are pressing against Kageyama’s, softly imploring them to kiss back—and eventually they do.

The way Kageyama kisses is tentative, nothing like his bold assertions and flowing movements in class. There’s a sense that he might clam up and hide away at any moment; Kageyama Tobiflow in nice jeans is a creature venturing outside his comfort zone, unsure if he likes the new environs. Shouyou presses into him, and Kageyama breathes a sigh.

Perhaps the new environs aren’t too bad.

Kageyama’s hands creep up very slowly—very carefully—to trace Shouyou’s back. They rise along his spine, then come down and caress his hips, his thighs. It’s clear Kageyama likes what he feels.

The kiss goes on and on, the way kisses used to before sex was on the table. Shouyou wonders if he ought to drop a hand to Kageyama’s crotch—but their position is awkward for any sex stuff.

He draws back just enough to speak, though Kageyama tries to follow him. Shouyou drags his thumb over Kageyama’s lower lip to keep him from resuming the kiss. “Can you lift me from here?” he asks, breath raspy.

The look Kageyama gets in his eyes says this was an insult not just to him but to his ancestors. Without a word he grabs Shouyou’s ass, heedless of Shouyou’s root chakra, and stands up out of the chair. Shouyou is not a light guy despite his height, and he clings so as not to fall—but Kageyama doesn’t stumble as he moves confidently to the couch, laying Shouyou down on it.

“This is a sofa-bed,” Shouyou says in a rush. “We can put down the other side if you wa—”

Kageyama pulls back, looking confused. “You don’t use a futon?”

“Uh. No?”

Kageyama’s brows crease, but his mouth—beautifully red with kissing—presses into a line seemingly to keep his comments in. Shouyou sighs.

“Go ahead. Say it.”

“It’s better to sleep on a futon so you can soak up the Earth’s energy.”

“This is on the third floor,” Shouyou finds himself pointing out, even though it _doesn’t matter_ and he’s _hard_ from all that kissing and he’s pretty sure Kageyama is too—

“And you want to elevate yourself even further away?” Kageyama asks incredulously. The fact that he’s dead serious makes it a hundred times worse.

 _How much do you want his body?_ Shouyou asks himself, looking it up and down beneath the collar. It really is so… tall, and nice, and the way Kageyama touched him had been so nice too…

He looks up into Kageyama’s face, and remembers the shy smile from earlier when he’d pretended to like yoga more than he did. The whole package is... _compelling_. Weird, but compelling. Kageyama’s ponytail slips down his shoulder to hang down between them, tickling Shouyou’s neck.

“I’ll consider a futon,” Shouyou says, to end the argument.

Kageyama is watching his mouth. “Good.”

Shouyou hopes his reflexive eyeroll goes unnoticed.

“Not that—I mean, you don’t have to. Obviously.”

 _That’s_ a surprise. “I don’t? But you’ll judge me.”

Kageyama meets his eyes. “You judge me all the time.”

Well, yeah, that’s true, but—it feels kind of bad to hear it like that, and Shouyou’s stomach twists. “I do?”

“I can tell,” Kageyama says, dipping down to brush his mouth over Shouyou’s collarbone.

“You can?” Shouyou forces out, body painfully tight under Kageyama’s ministrations.

“I see flashes of it. In your aura.”

Of course.

“It’s all right,” Kageyama says against Shouyou’s skin, raising goosebumps. “Everyone does it.”

Everyone judges Kageyama, or everyone judges other people? Shouyou doesn’t ask, feeling guilty. Maybe Kageyama does know how ridiculous he is, and the thought is kind of sad.

Then Shouyou shakes himself. He has the hottest guy he’s ever been with hovering over him just now; he has no reason to feel sad.

He hooks a leg around Kageyama, pulling him down, and Kageyama lands with a small _oomph_. It doesn’t take Kageyama long to recover; he slides his clothed body against Shouyou’s, heavy fabrics dragging against each other in delicious friction. Shouyou presses into it, and Kageyama presses down.

Shouyou tries not to remember _Tobiflow_ , or how Kageyama’s movements really do flow like a wave breaking on the shore. There’s a calm strength to everything he does, even though his breathing is as excited and uneven as Shouyou’s own. Their mouths catch again, and then Kageyama is sucking a bruise into Shouyou’s neck with all the intention and passion of a priest holding a sermon.

“The bed,” Shouyou says. “The couch, I mean, I can make it be a bed—”

“Don’t care,” Kageyama says, which is odd for someone who cares whether there’s a mobile phone in a room he exercises in. “Do you?”

Shouyou doesn’t. “No.” He sets his hands against Kageyama’s pecs, running down over hard nipples then along his sides. “Can I take your clothes off?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Two orgasms later finds Shouyou on his side facing Kageyama in a bed they laid out between round one and two, somehow, the blankets pulled up to their shoulders. Shouyou’s calf is between Kageyama’s legs, but that’s as much cuddling as they’re doing.

Kageyama had tentatively tried leaving after round one, and Shouyou had grabbed his wrist and asked if he might be ready for more soon. So Kageyama had stayed—but now they’ve had round two. Their breathing has steadied, and Kageyama is still here.

It feels like a textbook pillowtalk moment, and Shouyou hadn’t planned for pillowtalk, but he’s a flexible guy and he’s feeling replete after some of the best sex of his life. Kageyama had turned out to be as passionate and attentive as he is odd—and he is _very_ odd.

“So does this happen a lot?” Shouyou asks.

“Does what happen?”

“Students hitting on you. You sleeping with them.”

Kageyama shifts, eyes locked on his. “You’re not my student.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then no.”

Shouyou shifts too, slightly closer. “But sometimes?”

“No.”

Can this really be a first for Kageyama, or is he of the school of thought that past lovers shouldn’t be discussed with current ones? Shouyou has no such compunctions.

“I would think you meet lots of hot people through your work,” he says. “Or, well, enough.”

Some of the sex-flush fades from Kageyama’s cheeks. “No. I mean, yes, but—I don’t… That’s wrong. I don’t try to meet people there.”

It’s sweet, kind of. Of course Kageyama, who takes his job a hundred percent too seriously, doesn’t use it to pick people up. Shouyou’s almost ashamed of suggesting it.

Almost.

“Yeah, but people are gonna meet _you_ ,” he says. He bites his lip, feeling too smug about everything. That really had been… wow. He’s still recovering mentally, his body ahead of his brain.

Maybe he likes Kageyama more than he thought.

“This is the first time I’ve done something like this,” Kageyama says, completely deadpan as he stares into Shouyou’s eyes. It takes Shouyou a while to remember the Kageyama from classes, what he usually looks like when he’s not lying sex-ravaged in Shouyou’s bed.

 _Right_. There’s a good chance Kageyama’s weirdness has kept interested parties at bay. Shouyou reaches out a hand between them, touching the back of a finger to Kageyama’s chin in a caress.

Kageyama looks away.

“So _Crow Pose Yoga_ isn’t the place to go for a date, normally,” Shouyou says, grinning. “I just got lucky.” He hopes Kageyama doesn’t point out that this is a one night stand and not a date; euphemisms were invented for a reason.

Kageyama executes a laying-down-shrug. “People have asked. But…”

Shouyou pulls his hand back, surprised. “They have?”

Kageyama says nothing.

“Then—what made you say yes to me?”

The silence continues, Kageyama’s avoiding Shouyou’s gaze, so Shouyou scoots closer, and closer, and—

Kageyama sits up. His bare upper body is pure poetry; Shouyou scoots back to behold it properly.

“You were going to stop coming,” Kageyama says, looking for his clothes on the floor next to the bed.

Shouyou resists a sex pun about _coming_. “So I was a special case?” he asks cheerfully. “Flattering.”

He doesn’t really care what Kageyama’s motivations were, all things considered—

Kageyama looks back at him, finally, and the look on his face stops Shouyou’s smug recollections in their tracks. Kageyama’s eyes are way too intense for someone who just came twice.

“I was never going to see you again.”

Shouyou’s heart stops. “Unh?”

“You’re—infuriating,” Kageyama says. “But…”

Shouyou sits up sleepily, trying a smile. “But you like me anyway?”

“You have so much potential,” Kageyama says seriously. His brows are furrowed. “But you’re obsessed with modern life and appearances, and you think the whole thing is a joke.”

“Oh.”

A strand of hair hangs across Kageyama’s face. Shouyou reaches to tuck it behind Kageyama’s ear, ignoring the way his eyes shut, his slight flinch.

“Um,” Shouyou says. “Sorry?”

Kageyama’s shoulders bow. “I think… maybe some of it is stupid. Like the name. But not all of it.”

“So I could call you Tobio, and you wouldn’t correct me?”

Kageyama’s hunch increases, embarrassment coming off him in waves of heat. “I wouldn’t.”

“And… this is you converting me?” Shouyou asks, a little horrified. “To the cause?”

Finally the awkwardness is gone, replaced by confusion. “What?”

“I don’t know! It sounds like you slept with me to make me do more yoga!”

Kageyama stares. “ _That’s_ what you think? No one is that dedicated!” Then he reconsiders. “I mean—is that even an option? Will you do more yoga if—”

“Kageyama Tobio!” Shouyou hollers, heedless of neighbours. “Why did you sleep with me?”

“Because I like you. I wanted to. If I didn’t then earlier today would be my last time seeing you.”

Shouyou is just slightly terrified. “I didn’t—I didn’t pressure you, did I?”

God, that’d be the worst. What if he’d suckered Kageyama into sex by making it seem like the only way to see him again? And it _had_ been the only way to see him again!

_Oh no…_

Kageyama’s blankly judgemental expression sets him at ease. “Did I seem pressured?”

Shouyou’s panic stops. He breathes a little more easily, remembering. “No.”

Kageyama nods.

“Good!” Shouyou says, too loudly. “I mean, being as hot as you are, I’m sure you have lots of practice saying no, ha! But maybe if there was yoga involved you’d—”

“I never have,” Kageyama says.

“Mm?”

“I’ve never… before… I’m a virgin. Was.”

“ _What?_ ” Shouyou yells. He stares, remembering that long, long kiss in the armchair. It’s… unusual for people to kiss that long, maybe. Had Kageyama just really not known _how_ to…

“I never wanted to,” Kageyama adds.

“ _But you were so good at it!”_

Kageyama meets his indignant stare. And really, what’s this guy’s deal? He’s the most ridiculous man on planet Earth, but naturally good at sex? Is this some kind of fairy curse situation, where a weird creature visited Kageyama’s cradle and decreed he’d be so ridiculous no one would want to sleep with him, but blessed him with god-like skills in bed in case someone did? At this point it seems like one of the likelier options, and Shouyou isn’t sure whether he wants to kick Kageyama out of bed or pin him down and evaluate during round three.

One of them will have to look away first, but it won’t be Shouyou. There’s something so challenging in Kageyama’s gaze, in his set jaw, that Shouyou can’t back down.

“You want to know how?” Kageyama says finally.

“Yes. Anyone would.”

Kageyama pokes a finger into Shouyou’s bare chest, looming with a look of superiority. “I channelled your energy and matched it. We’re extremely compatible.”

Shouyou understands the challenge now. Either he accepts a virgin was randomly that good at sex—bad for his pride, given his own messy and awkward first sexual encounters—or he accepts that not all the non-physical yoga stuff is bullshit.

Then he hears the second bit: _we’re extremely compatible_. He’d felt that too, at points. Not just during sex. There’s a… tension between them. An odd familiarity.

What if he’s soulmates with a guy who thinks beds are evil because they take you farther from the ground? Horrible prospect. Horrible, but—

But maybe they can learn to work around that? Is that sense, or is that just his dick thinking of its future happiness?

 _Moving on_ .

“Maybe you can come to my gym sometime,” Shouyou finds himself saying, unwilling for this to be the last time he spends with Kageyama. “I learned your sport, you can learn mine.”

“Yoga isn’t a _sport_ ,” Kageyama says. Then he blinks. “You want me to go to your gym?”

“Do you want to?”

“It’s a violent place,” Kageyama says, considering. “But…”

“Deal,” Shouyou says, grinning.

Kageyama shakes his head. “Not yet. If I go to your gym, you have to do more yoga. I have so many things in mind for you, and maybe you’ll finally understand if—”

“Still deal,” Shouyou says, interrupting. His physical desires are definitely running the show, but—well, there are Kageyama’s rare smiles to consider. There’s more to Kageyama than hemp clothing and milk substitutes. Hopefully.

“Deal,” Kageyama says, and—after a moment—lays back down.

Shouyou snuggles in, and breathes in deeply of Kageyama’s scent. There’s just a _hint_ of patchouli, but it’s far from unpleasant.

 _Extremely compatible_ , Shouyou thinks, with a mix of excitement and exasperation—and falls asleep.


End file.
